


Why am I tired?

by Nefariouscryptid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Delusions, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Violence, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, OC, Original Character(s), POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefariouscryptid/pseuds/Nefariouscryptid
Summary: Ivan doesn’t like feeling anything that implies he’s human, something that diminishes his status, his being, his soul. Something so petty as feeling the need to sleep can send him into a rage. It’s an insult. An insult to his light and entity. He’s not human, and refuses to let this world and form try to say he is. He is a god. THE god. He is a god. He is god. He’s god he’s god he’s god
Kudos: 14





	Why am I tired?

‘Why am I tired?’ 

His eyes were burning, vision bleeding in and out of focus, his head beginning to fuzz, unprocessed, provoking a muted yet furious pounding in his skull. Skull. A skull filled with slivers and cracks, healed over, leaving only a reminder of his capabilities. They mimicked the wisps of clouds in the sky, canyons with thin rivers at the bottom, digging slightly deeper into the ground. Clothing folds, wrinkles in the skin, the sliver of light in an eclipse, the thickness of a fan blade, the air it cuts as it spins. Cracks in the skull as a constant reminder of what his form has endured that no other being on this planet could endure. Cracks he so perfectly crafted and caused, and so perfectly healed himself. Skull. Breathing skull. Breathing chest. 

‘Why am I tired?’ 

Breaths were ragged, liquids bubbling in the back of his throat, sharp pains sliding up and down and back to his chest. Each individual rib, so perfectly crafted inside his body from his time in the womb, every intricate molecule woven together so perfectly at the right time to form bone, hugged around his lungs, and around his beating heart. The ribs have since cracked and broke, now woven perfectly back together, leaving only a sliver of streaks and dips where the bone had not fused completely. But perfectly it did. Perfect. Perfect neurons, perfect molecules, perfect cells, perfect vibrations. Vibrations. 

‘...why am I tired?’ 

His thighs vibrated, a soft hum moving through his body like the growing frustration that coursed through his veins. His chest no longer felt like it existed, instead the feeling moving lower, rendering his mobility useless as he collapsed to the floor. He felt something crack. Perfect healing was now in process. Wisps. His eyes began to burn, unfocused and unable to return. Air hissed through his teeth as he gripped his hair, yanking it towards his neck. Even this action began to prove futile as his arms began to numb as well. He felt every organ and muscle in its body relax against his will. His will. Against his will. He reconstructed every illness and injury he has ever had. He has perfect control over the beautiful lines of gold that would glaze over the healed wounds. 

‘Why am I tired?!’ 

Tears leaked from his eyes, he’d refuse to say as an emotional response to the reaction of his body shutting down. It was like holy water, bringing the cold to his burning cheeks, tears getting caught in crevices of puffed scar tissue and dips where skin had not grown back up. It was all intentional, and as the tears pocketed in these spots he could see his eyelashes sparkled with this holy water In his vision. And with that his grip on his hair slowly released. He knew then, that these reluctant human functions that his body was feeling was all a plan to release the sea in him. A genius. He turned to lie on his back, and let the tears caught in pockets and dips in his flesh return back to his eyes, then down the sides of his face. The golden hues from the chandeliers and lights mixed with the saturated reds of the walls blurred together to make a peach, colors dancing around and the highlights of tears dancing with them. Then it went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note: Ivan is an extreme case of someone who is mentally Ill and is not meant to represent those who suffer from delusions psychosis ect.


End file.
